Danny Hee said nothing.
"It's Sung, isn't it, that asshole? What an asshole. Thinks he's in a Jackie Chan movie. Well, you can tell him from me that he'll get what's coming when it comes. Asshole."
Holly was used to the repetitive monotony of criminals' conversation. It was tedious, but it made it easier to fill in the words that she inevitably missed. It was never like a Quentin Tarantino movie, no witty observations about what Big Macs were called in Paris. It was all "a deal's a deal, right? Understand what I mean? Like, when I say it's a deal, it's a deal." And "my son's playing basketball tonight, he's doing great, he's really doing great." "Yeah?" "Yeah, he's really doing great." "Yeah? Great."
Even when they were discussing acts of extreme violence or bizarre sexual practices, criminals were invariably boring and matter-of-fact. She had once lip-read the conversation between two men who were going to take their revenge on a friend for sleeping with one of their wives. They had talked about cutting off his penis and stuffing it in his mouth as if they were discussing a trip to Freddy's supermarket.
"So we'll cut it off, okay, and you can open his mouth and I can push it down his throat."
"You could choke him, doing that."
She sat there for nearly an hour and a half, drinking two more cups of coffee and irritably checking her watch as if she were waiting for a friend to show up. Two or three times Mickey appeared in the background and raised his eyebrows to ask her if Merlin had said anything in relation to the hit. Each time she had to shake her head.
Danny Hee eventually left, still complaining about his delivery. Merlin sat eating nuts and saying nothing for almost ten minutes, while Vernon Pulitzer transferred his attention to excavating his ears. It was well past six o'clock now and Holly had to be home by seven to give Daisy something to eat and to pack her weekend case. She was just about to leave when Merlin picked up his cell phone.
"Yeah? What? Oh, it's you, Mr Rossabi. Yeah, fine. You don't have to worry. Everything's under control. Four o'clock Tuesday afternoon, just like you said, right outside the Richard Herrera Hair Salon, Southwest Main. Richard Herr-era."
He paused, listening, and then he said, "What did I tell you? Not a trace."
Another pause, then, "Like I said before, it's better that you don't know. I wouldn't tell you over the phone even if I would tell you, which I won't. Okay? I'm sorry, you're going to have to be happy with that. Yeah. No. That's right. You won't know she even existed."
A very much longer pause, and then, "Let me put it this way, Mr. Rossabi. I have a friend in the wood-pulping business. She's going to make the front page ofThe Oregonian. Literally."
Holly waited for three or four more minutes, and then she got up to leave. As she passed Merlin's table, he said, "Never showed, then, the sap?"
"What?"
"Your date, he never showed. What a sap. Lovely-looking woman like yourself, if you don't mind my saying so."
"Thank you. I guess his plane was delayed."
Merlin offered his cell phone. "Want to call him? Be my guest."
"That's all right, thank you."
"What's your name, if you don't mind my asking."
"Margaret."
"Well, nice to meet you, Margaret. I hope you don't think I'm sneaky or nothing, but I've been checking you in the mirror ever since you sat down, and I have an inkling that you were checkingmeout, once or twice, weren't you? You're a lovely-looking woman. Unforgettable. I hope to see you again."
"Why not?" said Holly.
Fallen Moon
Mickey was waiting for her on the steps outside the hotel, smoking. "So, how did it go?" he asked her, laying his hand on her shoulder.
"Ouch," she protested.
"Sorry-forgot about the bruise. Did you pick up anything good?"
"Well, it took some time, but I think so. Krauss came out with a name, somebody called Rossabi. He also mentioned a time and a date, and Richard Herrera's Hair Salon on Southwest Main. I even think I know what they're planning to do with the body."
"You're amazing. You know that? You're absolutely amazing. Listen-why don't we go to the Rock Bottom Brewery and we can have a serious debriefing over a serious beer?"
"I can't. I have to go home and give Daisy her supper."
She had just climbed into Mickey's car, however, when her cell phone warbled, and it was a text message from Daisy. "Mom. Tracey hs asked me 2 play & she hs SpongeBob Barbie so can I?" This was immediately followed by "Its OK by me, XX Evelyn. Home by 8."
She showed the messages to Mickey. "What wouldyousay?"
"I'd say that we have time for that beer."
But they were just turning onto Southwest Morrison when Mickey picked up his radio and started talking into it. Holly could see him say, "Harris can't handle it? I'm real tied up here."
He paused and frowned, and then he said, "Names?"
Another pause. "Never heard of either of them."
He nodded and said, "Okay. Okay, I'll get right over there."
"Problem?" asked Holly.
"Yes I'm sorry. I'm going to have to drop you off. There's been a shooting at the Deh-Ta Grocery Store in Chinatown. One individual killed, another one seriously wounded. Somebody at headquarters seems to think that they're friends of mine." He frowned again, thinking, but then he shook his head. "Some guy called Gerald Butler and some other guy called Kevin McKenna. Never heard of either of them."
"Do you want me to come along?"
"You can if you like. It shouldn't take me very long."
"Then I'll come along."
When they reached Chinatown they found the whole block sealed off and seven squad cars parked across the street with their lights flashing, as well as two ambulances and a TV truck. Mickey led Holly through the police barrier and up to the front of the Deh-Ta Grocery Store. The grocery's front was painted in red and gold, and most of the window was crowded with Chinese posters and postcards and dangling dolls and decorations.
Inside, there was a glass counter on the right and a long central aisle crammed with bottles of rice wine and cans of smoked oysters and boxes of Chinese spices. Three floodlights had been positioned around the store so that it looked dazzlingly bright, like a movie set: INT. CHINESE GROCERY STORE. NIGHT.
Seven or eight police officers and paramedics were standing in the aisle in front of the counter, talking in the casual way that people who are used to human tragedy always do. On the wooden floor in front of them lay the body of an overweight young man in his late twenties, wearing faded blue jeans and a white shirt with splashy red poppies on it, except that they weren't splashy red poppies: They were blood. Holly could see his pale hairy belly bulging over his belt.
A stocky, gray-haired man in a crumpled gray linen coat came out of the store. "Mickey hi. Thanks for dropping by." He looked Holly up and down. "Didn't want to screw up your evening or anything."
"This is Holly Summers. She's our consultant lipreader."
"Oh,right. I heard about her. The deaf lady. You used her on the Steelhead Cannery case, didn't you? Classic bust, that. Classic. I don't know how she did it."
"Jack, she may be deaf, but she can understand what you're saying, and believe it or not she can speak."